[faith] he knows what we are made of

I stood outside their bedroom door tonight after tucking them in, leaning on the frame, listening. Curious if they would fall asleep quickly or if there might be some cute dialogue between the two of them. Usually I break away for the computer or a book — some place to decompress after a mentally-draining day, but tonight I lingered, wanting to soak in a motherhood moment.

“Did mommy leave?” asks the younger. “Yes.”

“Didshee come in dust to top?” he says in his usual not-so-easy-to-understand 3-year-old-ese. “What?”

“DID she come in dust to talK?” he enunciated the k better this time.

“Just to talk?” ”Yes.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”


And I waited for the frustrated red-haired response much like a shrill siren, pleading with Peter to understand him, but it didn’t come. Things were quiet with just a little blanket rustling and slow sighs. Sleep became more important than being understood.

And the thought flashed across my little brain — God knows we won’t always understand. He waits for us to mature, experience more of life, learn to think more deeply and react less hastily. He is so patient with us.

Please come over to 5 Minutes for Faith to read the rest. :)